Chapter Nineteen
“Removing the Fae-colored glasses will illuminate the truth.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Go away.
Her body was warm, sated, and blissfully content. Nevertheless, something kept swiping at her nose. Too tired to move, she willed it to vanish. It did not belong in her peaceful world of dreaming. Contentment filled her being, and Ivy desired to remain happily in this beautiful realm.
When the beast dared to intrude once more, her hand flung outward, smacking away the soft, furry creature. “Leave,” she uttered, but found her voice lacking a more commanding tone.
Then said feline started to lick her face.
“For the love of Zeus, be gone.” Ivy turned away from the departing, purring animal and tucked herself closer to the hard, hot male body.
“Zeus was a demi-god according to the Goddess Danu. He boasted of powers that he never had. A bit of a show-off, so I’ve been told,” murmured Conn as he nuzzled her neck.
“What?” Ivy laughed and slowly returned to the land of the living. However, she found herself slipping into a pleasurable rift as Conn’s fingers traced a path over her breasts, lingering to fondle each softly.
“Truth,” he replied in a husky voice as his hand swept down her abdomen. “Apparently, he had limited powers, but liked to claim otherwise. Taunted the other Gods and Goddesses.”
Ivy let out a moan when he flicked one finger over her sensitive core. “You’re just full of make-believe stories.”
His hot mouth descended over hers, silencing any further conversation. Yet, their desire was short lived by the pounding on the front door.
“Bloody bastards,” growled Conn, removing the blanket from their naked bodies and standing.
The pounding continued, and he started to make his way to the door.
Ivy stood instantly and pulled on his arm. “You can’t answer my door without any clothes on.”
He shrugged and glanced around the room, obviously looking for his clothing.
“They’re in the dryer, remember?” she hissed, reaching for her sweater dress.
She stumbled to the door, and Conn yanked her back. “I refuse to let you open the door half-naked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Barbarian.”
Dashing into her bedroom, she shouted over her shoulder, “I’ll be right there!” Tugging on her leggings, she ran back to the door.
Flinging it open, she faced the glare of none other than Mac O’Reilly. “Good morning,” she greeted in her most cheerful voice.
The man took in her appearance, and Ivy fought the urge to run her fingers through her hair and straighten her dress. Keeping the door partially closed, she waited for him to speak.
“Are you ill, Ivy Kathleen?”
Almost choking on laughter, she shook her head. “Never better. Was there something you needed, Mac?”
“I was concerned—”
Ivy almost let out a groan when Conn appeared behind her. His presence loomed over her. The man was so close, the heat poured off his body and onto her back. She fought the urge to jab him in the stomach with her elbow, especially when he fully opened the door revealing their love tryst.
Mac’s gaze darkened. “What are you doing here? I thought all the repairs were done.”
Conn put a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “None of your business.”
Ivy smiled sweetly up at Conn, though her eyes held daggers. “Could you give us a moment?”
His reply was a kiss on her lips. Giving her a wink, he then strolled away.
Turning her attention to Mac, who now had his fists clenched, she said, “I’m sorry, but there’s no need to be concerned. Thanks for checking. Conn is taking care of a few minor repairs.”
“Erin and I grew concerned when customers came in for lunch asking why the store was closed. They feared you were feeling ill.”
The blood drained from Ivy’s face. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon,” clipped Mac.
“Damn,” she muttered. “Thanks. I’m sorry. Long day yesterday. If anyone comes asking, tell them the store will be open within the hour.”
“Yeah, right.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stormed off down the path.
Closing the door, Ivy bolted into her bedroom and yanked clothing off hangers. Pulling out underwear from her dresser, she almost collided with Conn on her way to the bathroom.
“No time for a meal?” He held a slice of toast in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
Ivy nodded. “I’ve never overslept in my entire life.” Taking a bite of the offered food from his hand, she shook her head in frustration.
“You were exhausted,” he countered.
“Humph!” Taking in his appearance, she scowled. “You could have at least put on a shirt when you came to the door.”
Shrugging, he tore off a piece and plopped it into her mouth. “The man needed to know his place. You are mine.”
“Do you hear yourself, Conn? You’re acting like a medieval cave man.”
“For your information, medieval men did not live in caves,” he responded dryly.
“Infuriating man,” she complained and walked into the bathroom.
Conn immediately opened the door and handed her the mug. “We don’t want the Mistress of The Celtic Knot grumpy without her morning…ahh…I mean noon tea.”
“Oh, for the love of Brigid,” she snapped, though Ivy’s mouth twitched with humor as she closed the door on his smiling face. “And don’t forget to feed Neala, too!”
****
No sooner did Ivy open the Celtic Knot than Erin came walking across the street. Knowing her brother, Ivy would bet everything she had that he spilled what he saw earlier to his sister. Erin had a grin on her face that made the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland’s story tame.
Handing a mystery novel to Mrs. Thompson, she hastily started to make her way to the back of the store, when the woman grabbed her arm.
“Are you sure this is the author’s latest? The plot sounds awfully familiar.”
“It’s the most recent.” Snatching the book from her hands, she flipped to the publication page and pointed. “See, it came out three months ago.” Snapping it shut, she handed it back to the woman.
“Goodness! I never thought to look inside.” Smiling, Mrs. Thompson gathered her other items and brushed past Erin.
“Hello,” greeted Ivy, picking up some magazines off a nearby table.
Erin said nothing as she followed Ivy to the magazine rack. After several moments, Ivy glanced over her shoulder. Her friend stood against one of the bookcases, arms crossed over her chest.
“As you can see, I’m hale and hearty. I just overslept.” Filing the last magazine, she moved away from the woman.
But her friend was quicker and stepped in front of her path. “Overslept?” She pinched Ivy.
“Ouch!” Rubbing her arm, she glowered at the woman. “What?”
“Don’t you mean you were preoccupied with a tall, sinfully gorgeous hunk of a man? All night long?”
Images of Conn flashed within Ivy’s mind and her face heated. “Gosh, your brother is horrid. He’s most likely telling the tale to everyone who enters the pub.”
Erin laughed and linked her arm through hers. “Nope. Only me. He came storming into the pub and straight into the kitchen. The first thing he reached for was the largest knife, cursing the man’s name.”
Ivy’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me you didn’t let him leave?”
The woman tugged on her arm. “My brother has a fiery temper, but he would never go after someone in a rage. He is pissed it wasn’t him in your bed. Although, he generally does care about you, even though you won’t date him.”
“Definitely not like a sister,” she stated flatly.
“Hell, no! Because then he would certainly take a blade to Conn’s balls. You should see how he treats the men I decide to date. Lately, I’ve been meeting them in the next village. I love my brother dearly, but he can be a pain in the ass and overprotective.”
Both women burst out laughing.
Ivy blew out an exasperated sigh. “You should have come and checked on me, not your brother.”
“I was on the phone. Didn’t have a clue until Mac poked his head into the office and said he was running over to the cottage to check on you. Mentioned several customers were wondering why The Celtic Knot was closed.”
Ivy peeled herself away from her friend’s grasp. “As you can see, I’m fine. Next time, I’ll set the alarm.”
“So, was it a lovely evening with the Viking?”
She was sorely tempted to toss a book at Erin. “Extremely.” Striding to her office, Ivy went and stood by the window.
“Will there be more lovely evenings?” asked Erin, sinking down in a chair.
Not prone to discuss her personal life with anyone, Ivy kept silent. She never had close friends and only two boyfriends in her life. Sharing intimate details with someone was something foreign for her. Not even her own mother had known when she had sex for the first time. Ivy had lived a life keeping her own secrets tucked within—safe and secure. Yet, with Conn, she took the first step in peeling back a piece of herself, and a part of her longed for a girlfriend to share confidences, compare notes on life—particularly men.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. I didn’t mean to pry. Thought maybe you wanted to talk about it.”
Seeing the forlorn look on Erin’s face, she moved away from the window. Leaning against the desk, Ivy drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “It was the most magical night of my life, Erin. I think I’ve lost my heart to the man.”
Erin jumped up and clasped Ivy’s hand. “I knew he was meant for you. The stars and the Fae have aligned perfectly for you both.”
Ivy snorted. “Fae?” Stepping around the desk, she sank down in the chair and opened a drawer. “Ireland is an extremely superstitious country.”
Arching a brow, Erin pointed a finger at her. “Best be warned, Ivy Kathleen, that your house sits on land approved by the Fae centuries ago.”
“That was hundreds of years ago. Don’t tell me people actually consult them in the twenty-first century?” Pulling out the monthly journal, Ivy paused.
“They sure do,” argued Erin.
Deciding not to debate the subject, Ivy withdrew the ancient keys. Placing them on the desk, she asked, “Do you have any idea what these are for?”
“Ahh…you found the puzzle Thomas was working on.” Erin drew up a chair and sat down. “He found them in a box buried in the garden a few months before he died. They were deep under a tangle of foxgloves. Told me that he stayed away from the area, since the flowers are special to the Fae—”
“Good grief,” grumbled Ivy. “Reminds me of the painting.”
“As I was saying, Thomas decided they were intruding on the herb area. Therefore, as he started pruning the foxgloves, he stubbed his foot on a large stone. When he removed the item, he found the box. He’d only mentioned it to me.” Erin pointed to one of the larger keys. “This was the original key to the cottage.”
Ivy traced her finger over the cold steel. “Amazing. But how did he know?”
“He kept the hardware pieces in the garage. Always wanted to re-do the oak door and use them, but he didn’t have the key.” Erin tossed her long braid over her shoulder and leaned across the desk. “Your uncle searched the entire cottage and store hoping to find what they unlocked. Sadly, he never had a chance to ask anyone in the village, and I simply forgot about them. Although, he could have found their purpose and didn’t have a chance to mention anything. We were all very busy the few weeks before his death.”
Picking them up, Ivy decided to ask Conn about them. He gave the impression as an expert handyman, so he might know what they were used for. Instantly, pain shot through her arm and slammed into her head. White lights flashed before her eyes. Fighting the wave of nausea, Ivy clutched the keys to her chest, spiraling to an unknown place within her vision.
“Ivy Kathleen?” Her friend’s voice called out to her from far away.
Standing in the meadow, Ivy could see the three men in a comical conversation. One of them laughed and smacked the other on the shoulder. In the center was another man at an easel, waving his paintbrush at them and demanding they stand still.
“Ye ken we are waiting for another. Do ye not wish him to be in the painting?” asked the tall, striking man with auburn hair.
“Aye, of course. Will I be honored by any others?”
“Nae,” replied the other giant of a man with hair as black as night. “Remember, ’tis only for ye, Bradon. Ye have been chosen to paint us.”
Bradon nodded. “It does nae matter. No one will believe me. I only wish to capture the light around ye.”
The man with black hair approached him. “What ye do today, will be remembered. Your name shall be revered by the Fae. Your skill is extraordinary, and you have been chosen.”
“I thank ye,” stated Bradon and moved back to his easel. “I hope your other friend arrives soon. The light is fading.”
The dark-haired man rubbed his chin in frustration. “By the hounds, can he never be on time, Liam?”
“The warrior keeps his own schedule.” Liam snorted and leaned against a tree.
“Ye ken I had other duties, Aidan Kerrigan,” protested another man strolling forth from the trees.
“About bloody time you arrived, Conn.”
Ivy gasped, her hand reaching out to him. As he turned toward her cry, their gazes locked and the vision clouded and receded.
Numbness and blindness surrounded her. Ivy fought the inky blackness and struggled to return to the voice calling out to her. Desperately fighting the wave of pain, she took in deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.
Warm, soothing arms were wrapped around her as Ivy managed to crack open her eyes. Dumping the keys on the desk, she wiped her trembling hands on her skirt.
“For the love of Brigid, what happened?” demanded Erin, handing Ivy some tissue.
She waved her off. “Thanks, I’m all right.”
“A vision, then?”
Goosebumps broke out on Ivy’s arms. “Definitely.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Concern filled her friend’s voice.
“You’d think me crazy. What do you know about Bradon Finnegan?”
Erin blinked and stood back. “He was a famous artist, born here in the village. When fame took over, he left. Near his final days, he requested to have his ashes sprinkled near an old oak tree up in the hills. The place was a favorite—one where he painted many landscapes.” She sighed. “The priest was furious when Bradon requested to be cremated and damned his soul to Hell. But the villagers loved him. He used to stay at Castle Lintel. You can see the ruins from the store. Bradon did many paintings of the castle and surrounding landscape.”
Looking back down at the keys, Ivy frowned. “I saw him painting on a hill, surrounded by trees. Do you think one of these belonged to him?”
“You don’t know, do you?” Erin shook her head and smiled. “Bradon Finnegan is a cousin to the O’Callaghan clan. Not only was he born in your cottage, but he also lived here briefly. His paintings are stunning. Some are on display at the museum in Dublin.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes and stood. “Stay here.” Walking out of the office, she made her way to the history section. Retrieving the desired tome, she stormed back into the room. Opening the book, she flipped to the one of the painting by Bradon Finnegan.
Placing the book on the desk, she pointed to the page. “The man that painted this picture is my ancestor?”
Erin nodded. “Yes.”
“Is this painting—Meeting of the Warriors in Dublin?”
“Wow! I’ve heard of this painting, but have never seen a picture.” Her friend’s shoulders slumped. “Sadly, no one has been able to find it. The item was stolen soon after he died. If it’s ever recovered, the painting could be worth almost a million dollars.”
She stared at the woman in shock. “You’re kidding, right? I knew he was famous, but why would it be worth so much?”
“The village council tried to buy one from a collector many years ago. Unfortunately, the price was too steep—a half-million dollars. After the collector died, it went to the museum in Dublin. Bradon Finnegan had a way of capturing the light in his work. Many people believed he was gifted with magic. He filled his landscapes with animals along with men and women from Celtic mythology. His work is sought after by collectors in the art world.”
Glancing back down at the painting, Ivy’s world was fast becoming a mix of the real and surreal. Conn may resemble a Celtic God, but he’s not…right? Stop! Crazy life you spiraled into when you accepted the invitation to come to Ireland.
“You know the blond man bears a striking resemblance to Conn.”
“Must be an ancestor,” mumbled Ivy, closing the book.
“You’ll have to ask him,” teased Erin, a smile warming her eyes.
Ivy’s hand trembled over the keys, fearful of more visions. Finally picking them up, she looked at Erin. “More secrets to unlock.”